


so keep me close.

by SeeThemFlying



Series: Unspoken [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, F/M, Married Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Mutual Pining, Post-Stoneheart, Pre-Long Night, The sexual tension is totally resolved though, Two Dumbasses Not Realising They Are in Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, book canon, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: Brienne pines for her husband, Jaime, who she is convinced is not madly in love with her.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Unspoken [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024483
Comments: 112
Kudos: 307





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HuntingViolets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuntingViolets/gifts).



> Hey guys! My absolutely huge deadline has passed, so now I can write and... you know... have fun again.
> 
> This one is for HuntingViolets, who has left so many comments on my fics, and I love each and every one. She always says that she likes JB fics with a friendly Daenerys in them, so this one was inspired by that thought.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting married was sensible, all things considered...

Getting married was sensible, all things considered.

The Northern Alliance did not trust Jaime Lannister. Although he arrived at the gates of Winterfell in his glittering golden armour, the army of the Westerlands at his back, armed with a promise that every man with him had pledged to fight to the death for the right to live, apparently that was not enough.

"He pushed my brother out of a window!"

"He threatened to trebuchet my baby over the castle walls!"

"He _murdered my father._ "

For once in his life, Jaime had wisely decided to shut his mouth and let the barrage of abuse overwhelm him. From her position behind Lady Sansa, Brienne thanked all the gods. If he was going to escape this baying mob with his head still on his shoulders, then he needed to hold his tongue and play the deferential serf.

Unfortunately, that had been quite impossible for the Lion of Lannister.

"I am here with my army," he said, his voice low. "You do not have to like me, you do not have to want to be my friend, but you _need_ me, just as I need you. If we are going to stand a chance against the dead, we all have to work together... whatever has gone on before. Whatever sins our fathers committed."

He met the Dragon Queen's gaze at that, and Brienne saw the moment that something shifted behind her violet eyes. Perhaps it was the thought of wildfire, a mad king, and the thought of her own legacy. "As much as it pains me," she said slowly, clearly forcing the words out, "Ser Jaime is right. We need each other... so we need to find a way to _trust_ each other."

Nothing fostered togetherness so much as a marriage, so before Jaime could even open his mouth, the matchmaking started, and he was being passed around between every eligible woman in the North. Queen Daenerys agreed to be the arbiter of the marriage, but not be a part of it herself. Lady Sansa was still _technically_ married to Lord Tyrion, so she was ruled out. Lady Arya - no more than a slightly murderous child - was ruled out at once by Ser Jaime himself.

"Then who are you going to take, Ser Jaime?" said Daenerys irritably. "You must marry someone."

At her question, the corner of Jaime's mouth flickered upwards in a familiar smirk.

"Personally, I was thinking I would marry the Maid of Tarth."

As everyone in the room turned to stare at her, Brienne's tongue turned to lead.

 _It is sensible,_ she told herself. _Sensible._

She and Ser Jaime were friends, weren't they? He had saved her from being raped, told her his deepest secret, and flung himself between her and a bear. She had tried to restore his lost honour, nearly hanged for him, and killed her former liege lady to save his life. That was the sort of thing that friends did for one another, wasn't it?

Brienne knew that Jaime cared for her and she had a good measure of his feelings; she was his _friend,_ perhaps the first real friend he had ever had in his life. So it hardly mattered that she loved him so deeply she could barely talk about it. Jaime could never reciprocate, never _would_ reciprocate. He had once loved a woman so beautiful and deadly, and their love had been so salacious and scandalous that ribald songs were sung about it down at the tavern. Even now _The Kingslayer's Sister_ had the ability to turn Jaime red with rage, so Brienne knew it was likely that he still loved Cersei, that he would always love Cersei.

And even if he didn't, it wasn't as if he would fall in love with Brienne, was it?

"The godswood is actually quite beautiful," said Jaime softly as they took a moment away from the war preparations to take a stroll through the snow. Although the fact that Jaime would choose to spend time with her warmed her heart, Brienne was finding it difficult to speak given that he had taken his golden hand off and looped his right arm with her left. If she did not know any better, she would have said the gesture was intimate.

She nodded. "Very. Especially in the snow."

"Maybe we should get married here, instead of in Lady Catelyn's sept."

Brienne snapped her head round in surprise. She had not been expecting that suggestion. "Why? We are both southrons, my lord. Neither of us worship the Old Gods, and we are of the Seven."

"I've never cared a wit for the gods," said Jaime before turning to the weirwood, "present company accepted. It is just..."

"What?"

He sighed and Brienne was so close to him that she felt the puff of breath. "If we married before the Old Gods, it would feel different from what has come before... new, somehow. I know my brother wishes to turn our wedding into a spectacle - morale boosting in the final days before the dead arrive and all that - but you are the only wife I ever intend to have, and I want to do all I can to stop the whole event feeling staged... to stop it feeling as if I am only acting for the sake of my adoring public."

Although friends were meant to be open to listening to their mates woes and worries, that admittance from Jaime truly broke Brienne's heart in two. _Acting._ Jaime knew he could never love her, knew he would never feel all the things a man could feel for a woman for her, and was being perfectly honest about it. Tarth and Casterly Rock both needed heirs, where did Brienne's poor broken heart come into things? What did such feelings actually mean in a marriage negotiation?

Overwhelmed, Brienne let go of Jaime's arm, and his face flashed with confusion.

"What's the matter, my lady?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. "Are you quite well?"

"Perfectly fine, my lord. It is just that Lady Sansa will need me, so I must attend to her..."

"It was _her_ who gave you permission to come out walking with me."

"I know, but I really think I must be getting back..."

In spite of his objections, Brienne turned on her heel and ran away from him, fast enough that he would not see the tears fall.

They married in Lady Catelyn's sept, just as Brienne had wanted to, with the whole of the Northern Alliance in attendance; Queen Daenerys, Lord Tyrion, Lord Edmure, Jon Snow, Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, the khalasar, the Unsullied, the Men of the Night's Watch, the Wilding King, the Mountain Clans, the Manderlys and the Marbrands, the Liddles and the Leffords, and the Flints and the Farmans. Everyone in Winterfell turned out to see the Lion take the Sapphire between his teeth, accompanied by great celebration and revelry.

Brienne tried to bear it when Jaime said the words - _you are mine and I am yours_ \- a luminescent smile on his face, and she tried not to shiver when he brushed against her while putting his Lannister cloak about her shoulders. When they kissed, she tried not to feel the pursed lipped tension in his mouth and the tentative way he rested his hand on her shoulder instead of her waist.

She tried to pretend that she didn't love him and that his distance didn't make her feel sad.

She tried. She tried. She tried.

She failed.

Everybody used the wedding feast as an opportunity to get drunk, including her new husband. Jaime kept touching her - a hand on her knee, his mouth close to her ear as he whispered to her, his arm around her shoulders - and it was unnerving and terrifying and so, so wonderful all at the same time. Brienne's new brother-in-law nearly fell off his chair while laughing at the Wildling King's jokes. Lady Sansa had a sherry and ended up much more giggly than normal, and even the Dragon Queen took the opportunity to let her hair down and smile.

"Where are the singers?" she asked loudly. "There should be dancing! I love dancing!"

The question was answered almost the moment it came out of her mouth, as Lord Tyrion clapped his hands, and a group of entertainers came out of nowhere. Everyone cheered as the music started - _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ \- but Brienne's heart sank when she felt Jaime's hand on her thigh.

"Come, wench. We must dance."

She shook her head. There were many things she would do for love, but not this.

"No. I can't dance."

"Neither can I, but it is our wedding feast. We _must_ dance."

She shook her head even more vigorously. With the room filled with drunk revellers, all Brienne could think about was Connington and the rose, and Renly's offered hand. He had done her a kindness by dancing with her that night, Brienne knew, and for that valour he had won her eternal love. Consequently, Brienne was scared of what would happen if she danced with Jaime. Would she fall even more in love with him than she already was? No, she would be half mad with desire if she let that happen!

"I told you, I can't. I'm not feeling well... I..."

Jaime's smile dropped slightly. "A husband and wife must always dance at their wedding. It is custom!"

"The wedding night ritual is also a custom, but you forbade anyone from performing that!" Brienne knew why; Jaime did not want the whole court to see him climbing into bed with his ugly new wife. "What is so different about dancing?"

"I..."

"If Lady Brienne won't dance with you, I will, Kingslayer. It will say something about the strength of our new alliance." Turning her head, Brienne discovered that the slightly tipsy Dragon Queen was smiling at the man who had murdered her father, holding a pretty, porcelain hand out to him. Jaime blinked nervously, which made her laugh. "Come on, Kingslayer. If your new wife won't have you, I will. It will cause quite a stir amongst the revellers at the very least."

At the Dragon Queen's request, Jaime gave Brienne one last look and it seemed almost pleading. It did not make any sense.

"Go," she told him, injecting her voice with a false good humour. "Queen Daenerys is right. It will be good for the two of you to be seen together, to be seen in good spirits."

He dropped his voice and leant close to whisper. Brienne tried not to shiver.

"Brienne, I told you. I don't want to pretend any more, I want this to be real..."

 _Then why did you marry me?_ Brienne wondered.

"Come, Kingslayer," said Daenerys good-humouredly. "Dance with your wife or dance with me but _make your choice._ The song is almost over."

Brienne made his choice for him.

"Ser Jaime would be honoured to dance with you, Your Grace," said Brienne, even as Jaime gave her a wounded look. "As you say, it would cause quite a _stir._ "

Queen Daenerys smiled, pleased. "Thank you, Lady Brienne. I promise to give him back in time for your bedding."

Backed into a corner by his wife and his queen, Jaime could do nothing but get up from his seat and follow Daenerys into the throng of dancers. He shot a few reproachful looks at Brienne but was soon too caught up in the dancing to notice her. Brienne sighed. As the music swelled, Daenerys - with her white blonde hair, violet eyes, and tiny waist - managed to look even more beautiful than she otherwise did wrapped in his arms.

_She probably reminds him of Cersei._

At that thought, Brienne felt strangely choked. Making her excuses to Pod about feeling unwell, she retired from her wedding feast without her husband in tow.

Their marital bed had previously been Jaime's bed, so Lady Sansa had made sure the drapes were in red taffeta. Brienne was focussing on this fact, even though she could not see them. The moment she had entered the room, she had extinguished all the candles, and the fire was now guttering in the grate. It might make the room colder, but at least Jaime wouldn't have to see her if he decided to come and take what was rightfully his.

_All women look the same in the dark._

Feeling the hot tears on her cheeks, Brienne imagined what it would be like to be as beautiful as Daenerys Targaryen. Jaime would not have stopped at this arbitrary line that marked them out as friends; indeed, if Brienne had been beautiful or even pretty, Jaime might have found it in his heart to love her.

And if Jaime could love her? Well, Brienne's wedding night fantasies might have become wedding night realities. If she was pretty, Jaime would not have stayed in the Great Hall dancing, but would have come to their bed. He would have taken off her shift rather than having her keep it on, so he didn't have to see the great run of skin marked by freckles and scars. Perhaps he would have held her and kissed her; her mouth, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach, her cunt. She would have moaned as he climbed on top of her, telling him how much she loved him, as he drove into her again and again. Begging, he would have called out her name, and she would cry with how beautiful he was, how beautiful their love was, as they both collapsed on the bed together, satiated and tired and... floating.

The door opened. It was Jaime.

"Seven hells, it is dark in here, wench. Why did you let the fire go out?"

She did not answer him. Instead, she remained with her back to him, staring at the darkness stretching out across the room. Her throat felt tight and she could not stop the tears, so she opted for silence, even as he began to fuss around; stoking the fire, swearing, and complaining.

"We've spent all day pretending at being the noble Lord and his Lady - gods, they even made me kiss you chastely in the sept - and then you let me dance with another woman and stalked away to bed." Brienne swallowed heavily. He was chastising her and there was something strange in his tone. It almost sounded like disappointment, as if he had been sad not to have kissed her properly in the sept or dance with her at the feast. It made little sense to Brienne. "Pod told me you were unwell, but it is too cold in here to be true. Are you trying to freeze to death? The dead will be here soon enough," he said, once he eventually managed to get the fire burning again. "Why would you want to be cold? Why...? _Oh."_

Although Brienne was not looking at him, it seemed as if Jaime had worked something out. She had no idea what and was too scared to ask, so she contented herself with listening to him getting ready for bed; the gentle _clunk_ of his golden hand being put on the table, the soft _hush_ of his cloak as he took it from around his shoulders, the obtrusive _clink_ of his belt as he unbuckled it...

The solid weight of him was warm as he climbed into bed, shifting the mattress. Brienne bit her lip. If she was an ethereal beauty like Daenerys, or a golden lioness like Cersei, she might have rolled over and kissed him, but she wasn't, so instead she just closed her eyes and pretended she was asleep.

It didn't last long, as Jaime shuffled up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and began kissing her neck. He was open mouthed when he reached the scar around her neck, his tongue teasing the reddened skin. Brienne almost gasped; she felt as if she was on fire, as if the candle of longing she kept burning within her had suddenly combusted and consumed her entire body. And if that wasn't enough, he was as naked as his nameday, and whispering sweet things.

"Oh, wench. I'll keep you warm, just like you want," he purred, before sucking at the tender patch of skin behind her ear. "Will you do the same for me?"

Struck dumb, Brienne could not bring herself to say anything, especially when Jaime's hand came to snake down her stomach. On reaching the bottom of her shift, he pulled it up tentatively, while nuzzling his nose against her scarred cheek. "Take it off, Brienne. Please, I want to see you."

Swallowing heavily, emotions clogging her throat, Brienne rolled over in his arms to look at him, her shift becoming twisted around her waist as she did so. Thankful her cheeks - reddened from crying - could be disguised as blushing in the flickering light, Brienne went to say something, but found herself cut short when Jaime dropped his hand between her legs, and began to stroke her as delicately as if she was a small kitten. She gasped, shocked, as his fingers located that small place that she had thought only she knew about, but then shifted her hips to give him better access. In response, Jaime smiled at her, golden and glorious. It was the best thing she had ever seen.

"Brienne," he murmured, his voice throaty. "Kiss me."

She did, tentatively. It was nothing like the one they had shared in the sept; this time, it was heated. His tongue slid against hers as he slowly explored her mouth, all while his fingers were inside her. She kissed him back passionately, as she had often dreamt she might.

"Wench," he moaned as he pulled her shift over her head. "Wench. My wench."

Brienne floated, untethered.

She didn't understand. Marriage was a sensible thing.

They were friends.

Weren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I love comments and kudos. In the dark, dark days of 2020, they are the best serotonin hit possible :)


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the morning after, Brienne reels from the night before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had an idea for a sequel to this and thought I would just write it in the face of the apocalypse. There is not much else to do, is there?

Brienne had believed that marriage was a sensible thing, that it was about creating heirs, making alliances, and healing rifts. Her septa had informed her of the burdens of marital duty; of the loveless lovemaking, the rough pain to expect when her husband took her maidenhead, and the casual disdain he would treat her with. Marriage was not a place for love or lust, but a grinding duty that kept the wheels of society turning. Therefore, she had been nothing but confused by her wedding night, as it had been so full of pleasure that when she woke up in the morning, she was languid, limp, and more in love with her husband than she had ever been.

Jaime was still asleep, his golden-grey head rested on her shoulder. The furrowed lines of worry that she had so often seen stretched across his brow were gone, and he looked so serene in his sleep. It was hardly surprising given the pleasure they had shared the previous night. After climbing into bed beside her, Jaime had made her surrender with an onslaught of kisses so passionate Brienne had been reduced to messing up his hair in an effort to keep up with him.

Pulling away, Jaime had smiled at her so sweetly that she had felt unnerved.

"Shall I... roll over onto my stomach?" she had asked, unsure of what to do next. "Would it be easier for you if... if...?"

_You couldn't see my face?_

A stormy cloud had crossed Jaime's features at that aborted question, as his eyes rolled over her confusedly. "Why would you think you should be on your stomach? When I lie with you, I would like to look into your eyes, wench."

There were so many answers to that question - Septa Roelle had told her that her marital bed was not for pleasure and Brienne was enjoying this far, _far_ too much; that all women were the same in the dark; that Jaime would find it easier to come if he didn't have to look at her - but they were all too painful to say out loud. Instead, she had just gazed at him wordlessly, hoping he would understand.

"If you are worried about the pain, we'll go gently," he said softly, before kissing the tip of her nose. "It will probably be better if I ready you with my mouth first. It will make you more relaxed... more open."

Brienne narrowed her eyes, not quite able to piece together what he was saying. "Ready me with your mouth? What does that mean? Kiss me?"

Jaime laughed, honey sweet. "Oh my wench, my innocent wench," he purred, his predatorial smile just about visible in the dim glow of the fire. "It means so much more than kissing."

As it turned out, it _did_ mean more than kissing. Although he had started at her lips, sucking on her bottom lip as if she was some sort of exquisite lemon cake, Jaime had soon began his journey downwards. He had traced the line of her jaw with kisses, before sucking and biting at her neck as if he were feasting on her. Overcome, Brienne had exposed her throat to him trustingly. From there, Jaime had taken a long, meandering path across her burning skin; from her freckled shoulders, to her aching breasts, along her flat, muscled stomach, before finally nuzzling the blonde thatch of hair at the crux of her thighs with his nose.

Brienne had gasped, scandalised.

"Relax," Jaime had whispered, joining their fingers together as she trembled at the way his voice hummed against her most sensitive flesh. "Just relax. I will make you feel good, my lady, I promise."

When she had squeezed his hand to give her permission, Jaime had kept his promise. Before Brienne had had a chance to ask _what_ he intended to do, he had nudged open her legs then buried his face between her thighs; kissing, licking, and sucking at her so thoroughly that she was completely ruined. Unable to do anything but moan and squirm, Brienne had grasped at his hair in an attempt to regain control, but he responded by locking his handless arm across her hips and holding her fast. It meant that it had been impossible to escape from the pleasure he was giving her.

After being overcome by wave after wave of ecstasy, Brienne had been left unable to do anything but stammer as Jaime had crawled back up her body and kissed her with lips that tasted bitter with her desire.

"Will you let me?" he had asked, his cock hard against her thigh. "I will take anything you give me, sweetling. _Anything._ "

There was something that had looked oddly like want in Jaime's green eyes, so Brienne had nodded gently - "y-y-yes" - and let him climb on top of her. Part of her had feared she would be afraid and in pain during the first time, but it felt perfectly natural to luxuriate in Jaime's smile, and wrap herself around him as he entered her, inch by agonising inch...

"Brienne... _yes..._ Brienne... oh gods... _Brienne..._ "

It felt so strange to remember the previous night in the morning, with Jaime's head rested on her shoulder and his arm around her waist. He was snoring gently, his breath warm against her cheek. Gods, she couldn't help but love him even more after the night before.

 _He was so kind,_ she thought, lifting her head to look at him properly. _He was so kind when he did not have to be, when he loves someone else._

_I should do him my own kindness._

Moving as silently as she could, Brienne shuffled out from beneath him, taking care not to wake him. Once she had disentangled herself, Brienne pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his forehead - one that a husband was due from his wife - then began to journey around the room gathering her clothes. Taking pains not to disturb him, Brienne washed in the bowl of water the servants had left for them in the corner of the room and then dressed hurriedly.

 _Sweet dreams,_ Brienne thought.

She was gone before Jaime woke up.

Knowing the best thing to do was to keep herself busy to stop wild daydreams about her new husband, Brienne rushed to Lady Sansa's quarters as quickly as she could. Some residents of Winterfell looked bemusedly at her as she passed, but she kept her head down. No doubt some would be gossiping about her and Jaime's first night together, and she did not want to bring shame to him, so tried to make herself as invisible as possible.

 _Last night, he did me a kindness I can never repay,_ she reminded herself. _I must do everything I can to show him how grateful I am._

After knocking brusquely on the door to Lady Sansa's quarters, Brienne entered the room to find Jon Snow, Queen Daenerys, and Lady Sansa waiting for her. They were leaning over a topographical map of Winterfell, with little figures of the various parts of the Army of the Living lined out upon it. Brienne was momentarily distressed to think that they were planning without Jaime - he was the most experienced general left to the living, after all - but she fixed a soft smile to her face when she saw Jon, Daenerys, and Sansa were looking at her confusedly.

"Lady Brienne," said Sansa, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I did not expect to see you so soon."

Queen Daenerys nodded in agreement. "Yes. I would have thought you would still be abed with your new husband."

Flushing at the idea of being _abed_ with Jaime, Brienne looked at the floor, hoping that the three most powerful people in the North would not notice her shame. She cleared her throat to steel herself, before looking up at them again, subtly adopting a fighter's stance.

"I have duties that I am honour bound to perform and my husband... Ser Jaime is sleeping." She tried not to think of the golden vision of her lion lying naked in their bed, his arm wrapped lazily around her. It would only make her weep. "Lady Sansa, is there anything you wish for me to do?"

Lady Sansa exchanged a glance with Jon Snow and Queen Daenerys, unreadable but complex at the same time, before turning back to Brienne. "There is nothing I need of you this morning, Lady Brienne, so please feel free to return to your husband. We are not so cruel to deprive you of time together when there is so little left to us all."

Brienne felt as if her feet were stuck to the floor, her whole body feeling heavier and heavier by the second. She could _not_ return to her husband. That would be the cruel thing; she could well imagine the horror on Jaime's face when he realised who... or _what..._ he had lain with the night before. She was doing him a kindness by staying away.

_Brienne the Beauty. Brienne the Beast._

"No, Lady Sansa," said Brienne sharply, even as the three gathered leaders began to turn back to the topographical map. The looked up as one, which Brienne found strangely disconcerting. "I... I... do not wish to return to my husband. I wish to serve you. I wish..."

"Why?" inquired Jon Snow suddenly. "Has he hurt you?"

"Because if he has, we can throw him off the battlements or torch him with a dragon, no questions asked," added Queen Daenerys.

Horrified, Brienne lifted her hands in an effort to protect the husband who wasn't there. "Of course not! Ser Jaime was nothing but... but... _sweet_ last night _._ He's just asleep now and I don't wish to disturb him. I am sure he will want to spend the day with his brother too. They have not long been reunited and I would not want to get in the way of that."

"I am sure a man would rather spend his first day as a husband with his _wife_ rather than his brother _,_ " said Jon Snow.

Brienne shook her head, dropping her hands to her side. She tried to keep her expression neutral, even as she wanted to cry. "Ser Jaime won't... not with me... he... he loves his brother very much. So I would rather stay here and do my duties, my lords and... and... ladies. If you would permit me."

Jon Snow and Queen Daenerys shared one more confused look, but Lady Sansa looked completely unfazed. "Well then, if you are so committed to your duties, Lady Brienne, you could take this to Lord Tyrion for me." Turning around, she picked one of the books off that was piled on the desk behind her. "Make sure he gets it at once."

Brienne took the book from Lady Sansa a little confusedly; it looked so non-descript it seemed unimportant.

"What is this, Lady Sansa?"

"Tyrion will know," said Lady Sansa cryptically, before gazing at Queen Daenerys and Jon Snow sharply. They instantly fell in line, nodding enthusiastically.

"Oh yes, _very_ important."

"Top secret battle plans."

Narrowing her eyes at them all in suspicion, Brienne nevertheless did what she was bid. Unsure as to what was going on, she bowed before turning away, her cloak fanning out behind her. If Jaime was explicit in his lack of love for her, Lady Sansa was obfuscating and confusing. Brienne was not sure which tactic she preferred.

Having thought that would be all, Brienne was surprised when Lady Sansa stopped her the moment that she reached the door.

"Oh, Brienne?"

Brienne looked over her shoulder at three smiling faces. "Yes?"

"If your husband is there when you speak to Lord Tyrion, please bid him good morrow from the three of us."

Giving her lady one deferential nod, Brienne escaped the room in the hope that none of them saw her blush.

If she thought to be free of questions about Jaime, Brienne was to be disappointed, as she got the same thing with Tyrion as she had with Sansa, Jon, and Daenerys.

"Why aren't you with your new husband, Lady Brienne? I'm sure he will be missing you."

She sighed, irritated. "He won't be missing me. Jaime is asleep and I have duties to attend to."

"I'm sure Lady Sansa can give you the time off if the most pressing task she has to offer you is this very dull book." He gave her a cheeky grin, as he picked up a nearby wine goblet and brought it to his lips. "And I know my brother will be missing your company. He had spoken of nothing but you since arriving at Winterfell."

 _It's a jape,_ Brienne told herself as she left the room after the interrogation ended. _And if it is not a jape, Ser Jaime was just telling Tyrion about our friendship... about how we care for each other..._

_That is all._

Not wanting to see her husband, Brienne spent the rest of the day furiously marching around Winterfell trying to find things to do. She volunteered with the Wildlings to help rebuild Winterfell's Broken Tower, she aided Gendry the Blacksmith in hauling water to the smithy, and assisted Lady Arya with transporting dragonglass weaponry to various parts of the castle. She did not go to break her fast in the Great Hall around midday for fear of running into her husband, and when she briefly thought she caught sight of Jaime just before dinner, she gave up on any opportunity to eat in favour of walking in the godswood, pretending the cold of the snow was more comforting than the warmth of his body.

 _He's done me this kindness,_ she reminded herself. _Now I must do one in return._

The kind gesture that Brienne gave her new husband was quite simple. When the whole castle retired to bed after a long day's work, Brienne did not return to the red taffeta room that she and Jaime had pretended at love in the previous night. Instead, she went back to the little room with the blue drapes that Sansa had allowed her on her first night in Winterfell. She remembered how her own father had kept a separate room for his wife at Evenfall Hall and, even though Brienne did not remember her mother, it had been made crystal clear that the lord's bed was for his mistress, never his wife.

Mistresses were for love and desire, after all. Not wives.

Consequently, Brienne decided the best thing to do was to sleep away from Jaime. At a distance, he would not feel obliged to lie with her as he had the night before and give her pleasure out of duty, out of a desire to do right by a friend. And Brienne would not have to lay beside him, clinging to the tattered ruins of a love that she could never sew into something whole.

Noticing that her hands were a little dirty from helping Gendry in the smithy, Brienne went over to the little bowl of water left by the servants and began to clean herself. She started with her hands, but soon found herself scrubbing her face, the back of her neck, and the top of her chest just visible above her shirt. The level of grime she found on the little cloth she was using soon encouraged her to take off all her clothes and give herself a proper scrub down. The water was ice cold on her skin in the cool air, so she moved quickly, determined to be in bed as quickly as possible.

At least, that was what she had planned, until there was a knock at the door.

"Would you give me a moment, Sansa?" called Brienne, knowing that her young mistress often liked to come for an intimate chat that their usual social bonds would not permit in the waking hours. "I am just changing for bed. I will be a few..."

The door swung open. She cursed herself for not bolting the door.

"All the better for me, wench," said Jaime breezily as the door slammed behind him. "You must know by now that I like it much more if you have as few clothes on as possible."

Horrified by his sudden entrance, Brienne hastily tried to cover herself with her hands, mortified that Jaime could see her so easily. This was not like the time in Harrenhal when she did not need his love or approval, nor like the previous night when it had been so dark. Now, every inch of her skin was illuminated for him to see, and it made her so ashamed she almost wanted to cry.

"J-J-Jaime! Please! I am in the middle of changing! I need you to--"

Jaime said nothing in reaction to her flustered panicking, but merely crossed the room to her bed where she had laid the shift she was planning to wear to bed. Picking it up, he brought it over to her, and his expression only flickered with the slightest disquiet when she snatched it off him and hastily put it on.

"Brienne..." he began, stepping dangerously close to her.

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

She finally found the strength to look him in the eye. "Getting ready for bed."

"Our bed is over the other side of the castle," he said, his words sounding strangely heavy. "Our _marital_ bed."

Brienne tried not to flinch at the welling rebuke she sensed in his voice. It was bad enough that he could never love her, even worse "Lots of husbands and wives sleep apart," she replied, holding her chin up in defiance. "My mother slept separately from my father, and I know that Lord Forster and his wife..."

"We are not Lord Forster and his wife, wench," Jaime parried, lifting his hand to her face to cup her cheek. She had to use all her willpower not to close her eyes; his touch was so gentle. "We are _us,_ and we can sleep in our bed together if we want to."

"But you don't want to," she said, almost as a reflex.

Jaime blinked, confusion blossoming on his face. "I don't want to?"

"Of course you don't," Brienne replied trying to find the words. Mirroring him, she raised her hand in order to press his further into her cheek, in an attempt to convey all that he meant to her. "I know you did me a great kindness last night, Ser Jaime, in making my first time... _pleasurable_... but I do not wish to be a burden to you. I know you do not love me as a man can love a woman--"

"I do not love you?" he spluttered suddenly, his green eyes going wide. Brienne struggled to understand why he looked so baffled. " _I_ do not love _you?"_

Confused by his dramatic repetition of the obvious, Brienne decided to spell it out for him. "You love Cersei."

"I do _not_ love Cersei," Jaime replied indignantly. "Yes, perhaps I loved her once, but ever since Pennytree my every last thought has been of you. Why would you think for a single moment that I don't love you with everything I have?"

Jaime stepped forward, pressing his chest against hers, and Brienne could have sworn she felt his heart beating rapidly against his ribs. His eyes were full of stars and he was looking at her so desperately, it was as if she could bestow something on him that only she could give. Lost, Brienne did not know what to say.

"I... I... I..."

"Almost the moment I arrived here I arranged our marriage, and I made it explicitly clear that I believe what we have is _real_ and I want every aspect of marriage with you," he said, his words rushing out like a rapid rivulet, so fast it almost washed Brienne away. "Last night was not about me being _kind_ , but about us being together as husband and wife, as _lovers,_ because I love you and do not wish to spend any more time apart."

Jaime words were almost as passionate as his gaze, which was boring into her skin like refined dragon fire. The combination of his gestures and words were almost too much for her to bear, especially when she had experience so little kindness before.

"Jaime, we are _friends..._ "

Then it was his turn to flinch.

"Brienne," he rasped, his thumb tracing her scarred cheek, a strange terror in his eyes. "Do you not love me?

Sensing his hurt, Brienne rapidly sought to bandage his wounds. "Of course I love you, Jaime, but I know it is impossible for you to love me, not with the way I look, that..."

He did not answer her with words, but with a kiss so rough and passionate that it almost knocked her off her feet. As Jaime wrapped his arms around her, Brienne melted into his kiss, her breasts crushed against his hard chest. Confused and happy and overwhelmed, she lifted her hands to his face, wanting to touch his bare skin.

"Let me take you to bed," Jaime asked the moment he pulled away from her, his cheeks flushed with an emotion that looked very similar to the pleasure of the night before. "Let me take you to _our_ bed and show you how much I want you to be my wife, how much I love you. Please, wench. _Please."_

Even though there were tears in her eyes, it was impossible to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. As ever, I would love a comment or a kudos. Feedback makes me improve!


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